


i've been trying to do it right

by orphan_account



Series: ho hey [2]
Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Genre: Alpha Jingim, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Byamba saw this coming from miles away, M/M, Omega Marco, Talking things out like adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jingim and Marco have a conversation about the past.
Relationships: Prince Jingim/Marco Polo (Marco Polo)
Series: ho hey [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992937
Kudos: 18





	i've been trying to do it right

**Author's Note:**

> Short, I know, but it's all I've got! As I said before, this one verse is technically completed with the two pieces in this series, but I may write more of it in the future. I just always have a hard time with working out a plot, even when I sit down and actually write down the stuff I want to happen lol. I have some stuff for two more possible fics but honestly who knows if I'll ever get around to it. 
> 
> Jingim and Marco only really have a really one-sided, serious, long-ish talk when Marco is accused of stealing the silkworm cocoons, and that's like, full of tension and anger. I feel they would have mellowed out with the years (like I said before), and we could already see glimpses of Jingim being willing to talk things out (as long as he wasn't quick to anger assndjasnd but he also grew to have less of a temper!) so I thought them talking about why Marco left would make sense. Again, excuse if it reads a bit OOC. I really do try my very best to emulate their voices as best as I can (while also taking into account the fact that they're older).

Of all the people he had expected to see for an audience, Marco had not been one of them – he had not even been on the list, not even in Jingim’s wildest dreams. 

And yet, as soon as he saw a white man with dirty blond hair approach the throne, he’d known right then that it could not be anyone else but Marco. 

His younger self would have been furious – and he _had_ been, when Marco had left. He had felt used, betrayed; he had wanted to kill Marco for his betrayal, and then realized that he had also wanted Marco dead for leaving _him_. Marco had his secrets, and he had not let Jingim in on them; Jingim had felt as though he had made a fool out of him, when he’d found out that Marco had been called to Kokachin’s birthing bed before Jingim himself was, and when he had found out that the latin had let his traitor father keep his life. 

But many years had passed, and his anger had died down. There was no point in being angry at someone who you had also failed, because he now realized that Marco had made mistakes, but so had Jingim. And although he did not know the truth of Marco’s departure, he had wondered if it had been something he had done.

The answer was now standing in front of him. _Altai_ , the boy had introduced himself. Jingim thought he was, perhaps, Marco’s apprentice who coincidentally shared a name with him – an old version of himself, at least –, until the boy had pulled down the fabric that covered half his face, and Jingim found himself staring at his younger self. The resemblance was uncanny, he had to admit, but he could also see that Altai had inherited some of Marco’s features; his cupid’s bow. The shape of his ears. The cut of his jaw. It was clear that anybody who knew both of them – Marco and Jingim – would soon realize that they were, indeed, Altai’s parents. 

It took him longer than he cared to admit to realize that Marco was an omega, once the realization that Altai was his son sank in. 

And now, they sat facing each other, and Jingim could see that Marco had not been untouched by time, but he thought he looked as beautiful as the last day he had seen him. Maturity suited him, and in truth, had sharpened some of his features. Altai was with Byamba, and he had gone without struggle, as Marco had asked, and Altai had made Byamba promise that he would tell him all about the embarrassing things he knew about his parents, so he had also inherited Byamba’s penchant for teasing Jingim.

“Why – “ Marco started. He did not sound afraid, but he was hesitant to keep speaking, and Jingim could tell, “Why are you not angry?”

Jingim hummed, “Do you want me to be angry?” 

Marco sighed, clearly thinking that it was a pointless question. “I left without a word. And I know you thought I was a traitor,” Byamba had explained to him, the logic behind Marco’s actions during the raid of Kaidu’s camp. Jingim had not been less angry, but he had listened, and now he knew that all Marco had done had been for the good of the Khanate. 

“I was angry with you for a long time,” Jingim admitted. He was mature enough to do so, now. He could see Marco was surprised, because the Jingim from nineteen years ago would have sent him to his execution, before Marco could have gotten any closer to the throne. “I thought that you had made me lose face, that you had made my father lose face,” Jingim explained. “I think, though, that I was so angry because I thought you had left me, and I did not like that.”

It felt weird, to say it outloud, but it was out there, at least. With time, Jingim had lost what little patience he’d once had for hidden meanings, or dancing around difficult conversation topics; he wanted to lay it out in the open because he wanted Marco to _believe_ he was not angry. He could tell the omega was wary, the way he had been his first few years in court, when Jingim and him were polite to each other on _really_ good days. Jingim wanted to assure him that there was nothing to be afraid of, that he would never harm Marco, but he knew that Marco thought words were wind, and promises were easily broken. Marco’s expression was unreadable, though. “I thought I was doing you a favor,” Marco said. “No one knew I was an omega. I wanted to keep it that way. I did not know I was pregnant with Altai until after I started the journey to Venice. I never meant to keep him from you.” 

Jingim could tell Marco was not telling him the full truth, but he did not need that now. If they were lucky, they would have time later. “I know you did not leave on your own merit,” Jingim said. His mother had not said so explicitly, but she had admitted to Jingim, on her deathbed, that she had given Marco a way out of the Khanate.

“My decision to leave was mine, and mine alone,” Marco insisted. “I do not know what you heard, Jingim, but at the time, it seemed logical. I had served my purpose, I knew too much, and Lord Kublai thought it would not be long before I betrayed him like Ahmad did,” Marco sighed again. “And I was scared of what would happen, if my omega status became known.” 

“Why did you not come back, when you knew about Altai?” Jingim asked. “I would have…” in truth, he did not know what he would have done; it was easy, now, to say that he would have welcomed Marco back with open arms. But the Jingim from nineteen years ago was very different from the Jingim of the present. Would he have had Marco executed, before he knew about the baby? Would his father have had Marco executed, or worst? 

Marco shook his head. “I knew it would just put you in a difficult position,” Marco shrugged. “Like now. But Altai insisted. He wanted to know his father’s land, and I have always been terrible about saying no to him.” The last was said with fondness, as Marco smiled. Jingim couldn’t help but smile, too. From what he had seen, Altai was a fine young man, and if he wanted to, he would make his mark in the empire. Jingim wished to get to know the son he had not known existed for nineteen years.

Then there was silence again, but it was not uncomfortable. It simply was. 

“I am sorry, Jingim,” Marco said. “I could have done things differently. But what is done is done. I am sorry we showed up here so suddenly, and – “

“Enough,” Jingim said. “I am also sorry.” 

Marco looked surprised, “For what?”

“I was unkind to you, when we first met,” Jingim explained. “And then, I did not trust you, even when I knew I could.”

“You were angry,” said Marco. “We are not exactly rational when it comes to strong emotions.”

“That is not an excuse. You had not given me reason to believe you would ever betray me,” Jingim reached for Marco’s hand, and took Marco’s right hand between both of his, raising it to his forehead. “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Marco assured him. His thumb rubbing circles on one of Jingim’s hands. Even when he had a right to be angry, he was being gentle, and it just made Jingim feel worse. “The circumstances were not ideal. It put us both in difficult positions.”

He put Marco’s hand on the table, but he did not let go, and Marco did not pull away. “I am also sorry that I missed Altai’s first nineteen years.”

Marco smiled, shaking his head but he did not fight Jingim on this, “Sometimes he acts so much like you it _is_ scary.”

“That did not sound like a compliment, Master Polo,” teased Jingim. “Tell me about Altai. Please.”

And so Marco did.

All was not right, and it would take time before it would be, but it was a beginning.

-

Byamba was weirded out by how Altai was so much like Jingim, but also so much like Marco. He definitely was not as cocky as Jingim had been at his age, but he _was_ full of confidence, and Byamba knew, had he been raised in the palace, he would have been just as much a little shit as Jingim had been. The way he crafted his sentences, though, that was all Marco. 

“So you didn’t know about mother and Lord – father,” Altai said. “He did say that no one knew.”

Byamba shrugged. “I did think there could be something there, one day,” he admitted. Only a blind man would not have been able to tell that what had been brewing between Marco and Jingim often toed the line of love and hate; Byamba had thought that they would end up killing each other or, well, fucking. Byamba shook his head. Sometimes they had been disgusting. Not in a bad way, just in the way that made you want to bang your head against the wall, with how they danced around each other – and denied they were doing such a thing. Or at least Jingim did. 

_I worried for nothing_ , Byamba thought, staring at the living proof that he had been right and Jingim and Marco had decided to work their… _thing_ out in a more than enthusiastic manner.

“Gross,” Altai said. Byamba shared the sentiment.

“Your father always whined about your mother, and claimed he did not like him one bit,” Byamba recalled, and did his best to imitate Jingim’s voice, “ _That stupid latin is the bane of my existence!_ ” Altai laughed, and Byamba continued, “Look how that turned out.”

“Opposites tend to attract,” Altai said. Up close, he could see that the young man truly could have been Jingim’s twin. When he grew older, he would probably grow to resemble his father even more. He seemed to have not inherited young Jingim’s temper though, and for that, Byamba was grateful. One Jingim was more than enough.

“I think your parents are more alike than they would care to admit,” Byamba replied. “Enough about those two. Come with me. I think you will like the stables.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing Byamba interacting with Altai, and I hope I eventually have more inspiration to write more for this AU (particularly about those two interacting). In this AU, just as I wrote, I like to think Byamba always knew Jingim and Marco would eventually end up *entangled* in each other's business, so to say lol He was surprised Altai existed but after the initial shock, he was like "Yeah, makes sense. Wonder how it didn't happen before"
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading!


End file.
